


Mercy Unmade

by princesskay



Series: Between The Lines [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bottom Hannibal, Bottom Will, Episode: s02e12 Tome-wan, Episode: s02e13 Mizumono, Fights, M/M, Self-Hatred, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 15:03:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7057324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The impetus of Will and Hannibal's power struggle comes full circle as both Jack's and Hannibal's plans for the Red Dinner approach. The choice to stay or leave is in Will's hands; love and logic at war. His decisions will change him forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“What did you see?”

Will opened his eyes to the dim shadows of Hannibal's office as the bloody fantasy of cutting Hannibal's throat faded from his mind.

A smile touched Hannibal's lips, and a morbid curiosity shone in his eyes.

“I think you know.” Will murmured.

“I want you to tell me.”

Will took his wine glass from the table, and sipped, keeping his gaze on Hannibal over the rim. Hannibal tilted his head, expectantly.

“You didn't try to call me after we saw each other at Margot's hospital room.” Will remarked.

“I knew it would be pointless. The last time I called and you did want to speak to me, you did not call back. I even cooked dinner for you, and you haven't apologized.”

“I have nothing to apologize for. I didn't want to talk to you.”

Hannibal's smile coiled tighter. “How saucy of you.”

“You find me rude?”

“Only when you're afraid.”

“I'm not afraid.”

“No, you're calm. Quite calm.”

“As I said.”

Hannibal rose from his chair to pour more wine from the cabinet. Will's gaze traveled down the back of his head and the relaxed set of his shoulders.

“You don't seem bothered about my new found … calmness.” Will said.

“Clarity is good.” Hannibal said. He returned to his chair with a full glass of red wine, and lifted it toward Will, “I applaud you.”

“My clarity could be bad for you.”

“Your mental well being is never bad for me since you are my patient. I value your comfort.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. Perhaps it was better that you ended our sexual engagements. Emotional connections can muddle the parts of your brain that are most integral in decision making and mental contentment. Often, when we are in a relationship, the baggage that we carry with us from another person and from our conflict with them is not worth the value of the relationship itself.”

“You're putting my mental well-being above our relationship?”

“Of course.”

“I thought you wanted me back.”

“What we want, and what we get out of life are rarely the same.”

“So, you're calm too.”

Hannibal smiled over the rim of his wine glass. “I always am.”

“You didn't seem calm when you pushed me up against the wall that night at your house.”

“All anyone can do is strive to be a better person. I know I am.”

Will chuckled, “Better?”

“The word is entirely subjective. What I consider better is not the same as what you consider better.”

Will frowned across the room at Hannibal. “I didn't expect you to give up so soon.”

“I'm not giving up. You are still my patient, and my friend. Unless you have changed your mind about that as well.”

“No.”

“So, these conversations will continue as they always have, and I will see to it that therapy progresses at a rate reasonable for the money I'm charging you to be here.”

“That's fair.”

Hannibal smiled. “It's more than fair.”

 

~

 

Hannibal would have much preferred to kill Mason right there in his office. He'd wanted to kill Mason from the moment Margot had described her brother's horrific acts to him. But, patience was a virtue, a virtue higher than any other when person lived a life like Hannibal's. He had gone unnoticed for his true self for these many years because of absolute patience.

Patience and cunning aside, he wanted something else even more than to kill Mason; he wanted to see Will kill Mason. Will had killed Freddie Lounds out of a desire for bloodshed rather than the thin veil of self defense he clung to when it came to Randall Tier, but Hannibal was eager to see Will's predatory instincts emerge with his own two eyes.

His progress was confirmed when he and Will met with Margot before she was to be discharged from the private care facility. Will didn't try to hide his distaste for Mason, or his desire for the man to die.

When they left the care facility, Hannibal put a hand on Will's elbow.

“When I first spoke with you and Margot about the pregnancy, I was certain you were not at all invested or interested in her.”

“I slept with her.” Will said, “That's interested enough, I think.”

“Sex doesn't always mean an emotional connection.”

Will cast him a guarded gaze, “Are we still talking about Margot, or are you fishing for my thoughts on you?”

“Margot, of course.”

They walked side-by-side across the parking lot, only the whistle of winter wind between them for several moments.

“I can see now that you are highly invested.” Hannibal remarked.

“We were going to have a child together.” Will said, ducking his head against a gust of chilly air, “I don't have a choice whether or not I want to be invested. I just am.”

“You want to kill Mason for what he's done.”

Will pulled his keys out of his pocket, and unlocked his car. A smile tilted his mouth just before he climbed into the driver's seat. “What do you think?”

The door slammed shut, and the engine came to life. Hannibal took a step back to avoid a spray of snow and slush as Will pulled out of the parking lot. A smile touched his mouth. Perfect.

 

~

 

_Don't let empathy confuse what you want, with what Lecter wants._

Jack's advice seared through Will's brain as he stepped out of the interrogation room that Bedilia Du Maurier occupied. He paused in the hallway to scrub a hand over his face, pressing back the ache of sleeplessness and frustration. With the psychiatrist's testimony, he and Jack could place the final nails in Hannibal's coffin, and yet, Will felt the tug of a desire to slow the speed with which the investigation was progressing.

He wasn't quite sure what he would do once Hannibal was incarcerated. It's a dangerous thing, getting exactly what you want; once your reason for living is gone, where is there to go? What other savage pleasures can the mundane rituals of the world offer that could even begin to compare to what he'd felt with Hannibal? It was so wrong, yet he sheltered those memories in a part of his brain that had been trained to grow numb to immorality and blood.

He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, and held his breath as he dialed Hannibal's personal phone number. It rang just once before Hannibal answered.

“Hello, Will.”

“I'm not sure I should come to therapy tonight.” Will said, without fumbling through pleasantries.

There was a pause over the line before Hannibal replied. “I have a twenty-four hour cancellation policy. If you don't come tonight, you'll still have to pay the bill.”

“I know.”

“Of course, it's not the money you're concerned about.”

“No.”

“Through all of our personal turmoil, you've never missed a session. Why now?”

“I don't know if I can tonight. I'm trying to hold things together, but I didn't get much sleep and-”

“Will, please come. I'm not asking you as your psychiatrist. I'm asking as your friend. Whatever problems may be occurring between us, I have strong faith that your therapy is progressing well. I think it would be detrimental to end our doctor-patient relationship now.”

Will released a sigh.

“I've come to a decision.” Hannibal said.

“What decision is that?”

“I won't continue to pursue you romantically. I can see that you've made up your mind, and nothing I can say or do will change that.”

“Really? You told me you have a habit of getting what you want.”

“There are limits to even what I can and cannot reach. I'm afraid the length of my arm has reached it's limit with you. I can help you now only as a friend and doctor. I hope you'll allow me to continue the good work we're doing at my office.”

Will nibbled on his lower lip as two agents passed him in the hallway. They ignored him, but he turned toward the wall when they came within a few feet of him.

“Fine.” He said, “I'll come.”

“Good. Seven-thirty it is.”

“I'll see you then.”

Will hung up the phone, and shoved it in his pocket. He closed his eyes as a sense of renewed calm washed over him.

He'd never intended to miss tonight's meeting. Therapy was a crucial part of he and Jack's plan; moments of privacy and a false sense of security that allowed for secrets to be told. No, Will was calm, just as calm as before. The part of himself that still privately longed for Hannibal's submission just wanted to hear the tremble in Hannibal's voice at the thought of losing even one hour of interaction with him. As a part of the plan, it served to show him just how dedicated Hannibal was to this friendship; the wool was firmly over his eyes, and for now, that's all Will could be grateful for.

 

~

 

For the next three days after therapy, Hannibal kept his promise. No pleading or manipulating Will back into his arms, no phone calls, no nothing.

When Will wasn't at work, he laid on the couch blankly watching the TV, or laboring over one of the rusted out boat motors in the garage. He was jittery with nervous energy, and his stomach churned with the waiting and wondering. With the situation with Mason evolving as it should, Will could do nothing more than wait for the right moment.

That moment came Sunday afternoon as the sun was beginning to descend toward evening. Will had just finished feeding the dogs when a black car with tinted windows rolled up in the driveway.

Will's stomach clenched as Mason Verger stepped out of the car.

The driver patted Will down for weapons before allowing him into the car.

The vehicle had black leather seats, with accents of silver on the door handles and dash. A privacy screen rose between them and the driver as the car pulled out of the driveway.

Mason shifted with his back toward the door, and crossed one leg over the other as he cast a pointed gaze at Will.

“This could have waited of course, but I'm just so-” He clenched both hands into fists, his jaw sliding to the side in a crooked smile, “ _Excited_ – ya know?”

Will gave a curt nod.

“What better time than the present, right?” Mason said.

Will situated himself tighter against the opposite door as Mason reached over to pat him on the arm.

“When we get there, Dr. Lecter will be all trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey and ready for the slaughter. I hope you have a little more enthusiasm by the time we get there.”

“I'm the one who made you aware of Dr. Lecter's trespasses.” Will said, “Don't confuse calmness for indifference.”

Mason nodded, thoughtfully. Will could feel the man's gaze on him as the car rolled steadily toward Muskrat Farm.

“You know, I can see why Dr. Lecter is so fascinated with you.” Mason said, after several long minutes of silence.

Will glanced at him with a frown.

“You should have capitalized on your good looks instead of your brains. Or both, like I did. It's sad really, but the world is so much more fond of a pretty face than a big brain.”

“Well, then, I wouldn't be here with you, putting down the mad dog, if I had done that.” Will said.

“Mm.” Mason grunted. He shrugged, “I can see why Margot used you in her ploy too. Maybe I would have, too, if I had a uterus I wanted to to turn into a loaded weapon.”

“Maybe it would be better if we didn't socialize.” Will said, “We're on our way to kill a man who wronged both of us in one fell swoop, but we don't have anything else in common besides that. I'm not interested in getting to know one another after today.”

Mason lifted his chin, “Fine. But, aside from my eccentricity, most people are eager to snuggle up next to me. It's the money of course, but they'd be dumb not to.”

“Money has never concerned me. I'd just like to move on with my life once Hannibal is … gone.”

Mason mulled over Will's remark for a moment, before giving a careless shrug. He rapped on the privacy screen with his knuckles, and ordered the driver to put on some music. Tribal drums and flutes came through the speakers as the privacy screen lifted back into place. Mason laid his head back against the seat, humming along, and waving his finger like an orchestra conductor.

Will turned his gaze to the window, and blocked out the music as his mind drifted over the past few weeks that had led to his moment. He knew what he had to do, and that it had been a long time coming – but as his plan came to completion, he wondered where all the time had gone.

 

~

 

Hannibal ignored Mason and Carlo's disagreement in favor of gazing across the barn stage at Will. Will's expression was guarded, yet Hannibal could decipher past the cool veneer of calm, and revenge, and decision to the heart of Will's doubt. There was no clear decision in his eyes, but Hannibal was unconcerned. Too many reasons for Will not to kill him; too many fears, too many consequences.

He wasn't shocked, but still pleased when Will chose to cut him down instead of slicing his throat.

Mason had made the fatal error of bringing fewer than two people to subdue him. Hannibal struck, and sliced, and sank his teeth through them like they were made of butter.

Hannibal caught Mason just as he was attempting to escape down the stairs. He caught the demented millionaire by the full collar of his coat, and threw him down on his knees.

“Please, don't kill me.” Mason whined, holding up clasped hands in a prayer, “I can pay you a lot of money, or whatever it is that you want.”

“Mason,” Hannibal smiled, “I'm not going to kill you.”

 

~

 

Will woke the silence of the barn and the coppery smell of blood. He knew before he rose to his feet what had happened, but a cool indifference rested in his chest as he realized he was responsible. He'd cut Hannibal down under the subliminal influence of desire that lay caged in his chest.

He could tell himself he didn't allow Mason to kill Hannibal because he wanted Hannibal to be legally imprisoned by the state for his crimes. He could reason to himself through the hollow dome of his skull, but underneath his words, whispered and echoed the voice of a thousand desire.

He called a cab that drove him all the way to end of his street before he threw some cash over the passenger's seat and told the driver to stop. He jogged down the rest of the street, cold, winter air filling his lungs and sharpening his senses. His feet plowed through two feet of snow as he reached the front yard of his house under the guise of darkness.

He wasn't quite sure how long he'd been unconscious, but adding the time it took to drive between Muskrat Farm and Wolftrap, Hannibal must have had plenty of time to do with Mason whatever he pleased.

Whatever Will had been expecting, he stopped cold when he saw what Hannibal had done to Mason. Shocking and terrible as it was, Will felt no pity or regret for what happened to the psychopathic meat-packing heir. Mason had fallen right into his plan, and with a bit of push, Hannibal would too.

It took little convincing for Hannibal to break Mason's neck. Mason was rude and uncouth; Hannibal had been itching to put the boy out of his misery for some time now. He'd had his fun, he'd played with his food, now was time for the kill; and Will's part in Hannibal's downfall.

This was his moment to pull out his gun from underneath the desk and force Hannibal to his knees. This was the moment to make the arrest, and call the police in to detain Hannibal for murder. Will had watched with his own two eyes what Hannibal had done to Mason. Hannibal was caught red-handed, no way to avoid a jail sentence.

Yet, Will was frozen in place as he watched Hannibal calmly, and precisely snap Mason's neck. As Mason's head lolled back against the chair, Hannibal crossed the room to where Will stood.

“He's not quite dead.” Hannibal said, “But he will be paralyzed for life if he's given medical treatment quickly enough.”

“Mercy?” Will asked.

Hannibal's mouth curled in a smile. “You might call it that.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I'm his psychiatrist. I'm, in part, responsible for his well-being.” Hannibal said, “Of course, I'm going to get him medical treatment.”

Will slid his gaze back to Mason's butchered face and wilted neck. The dogs panted and circled around the chair, smelling blood and flesh.

“You wanted me to kill him just a moment ago. Why spare him?”

“Mason was rude and discourteous.” Hannibal said, “That alone is deserving of anything less than mercy; but it was when he chose to go beyond rudeness to attempting to kill you and me that I decided he should have time to think on what he's done. Now he has all the time in the world.”

Will lingered in the living room as Hannibal went into the kitchen to wash his hands in the sink. When he came back, he shrugged into his coat.

“May I use a tarp?”

“For what?” Will asked.

“Mason needs medical care. I'll take him to the people that can help him, and then put an effective end to our doctor-patient relationship.”

Will found a tarp in the garage, and took it out to the car Hannibal had taken from Muskrat Farm. He spread the tarp over the backseat, and held the door open as Hannibal carried Mason out of the house. He dumped Mason unceremoniously across the back seat. Shoving Mason's feet into the car, he pushed the door shut, and turned to Will.

“At some point, rudeness stops deserving murder, and starts deserving some sort of deluded brand of mercy.” He said, “Like Mason. Murder would be a much too short and quick punishment for what he's done, but mercy allows him to writhe and wallow in his punishment for years to come. I wonder, Will, where the does the difference between your mercy for me, and murder as punishment lie? You could have allowed me to be killed in the Verger barn, but you chose mercy.”

“I'm willing to let Mason die.” Will said, “Or not die. It doesn't matter to me. But you … I don't hate you, Hannibal. I … tolerate you.”

“Tolerate.” Hannibal echoed, “I had hoped for something a bit more … vexing.”

“You've done more than vex me. I hope you're satisfied.”

Will turned to walk back to the house, his boots sinking through the snow and absorbing the cold into his toes. He couldn't feel the numbing temperature for the heat of desire, and the flush and strain of anger that swelled in his chest.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Will showered after Hannibal left with Mason. He washed away the stink of blood and sweat, but thoughts of mercy and murder clung to his skin like invisible dirt. He'd passed up the chance to arrest Hannibal. But for what? Mercy? Punishment? Hannibal would go free while Will continued to lash himself for what he'd done; self-inflicted punishment that stung all too pleasingly across his skin.

When he stepped out of the shower, he put on clean clothes, and took cleaning solution and rags into the living room. Most of the blood had gotten on Mason's clothing, but he'd left behind some stains on the chair and carpet. Will laid into the drying spots with cleaner and rags, scrubbing at the red until he broke a sweat.

He got out as much of the blood as he could. After twenty minutes of scrubbing, he took a bottle of whiskey from the shelf and poured out a generous glass.

An hour later, he was sipping on his second glass when the sound of tires over gravel alerted him. He pulled back the curtains to see head lights cutting a blinding swath of light across the snow covered lawn and the front of the house.

Hannibal stepped out of the back seat of the taxi, and waved the driver off. The front yard sank into darkness as the taxi backed out of the driveway and disappeared down the road. Hannibal marched up the driveway, and the front porch steps. His footsteps rang hollow across the wood as Will stood by the window, frozen, heart pounding wildly.

A knock on the door jarred him into motion. He drew in a deep breath, and pulled the door open.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I thought we might share a drink.” Hannibal said.

The screen door stood between them, barely blocking the intensity of Hannibal's gaze on him.

“It's almost midnight.” Will said.

“You're still awake. And you have whiskey on your breath.”

Will silently cursed Hannibal's keen sense of smell, but pushed the screen door open to allow him inside.

Hannibal wiped his shoes on the door mat, and crossed the room to where the whiskey bottle sat open on the desk. He plucked an empty glass from the shelf, and poured out a drink.

“What did you do with Mason?” Will asked.

He shut the door firmly behind himself, and walked to the window to peer out.

“What are you looking for?”

“Nothing.” Will muttered.

He took his half empty glass from the table, and drained the rest past his lips.

“I dropped him at a hospital.” Hannibal said, “And I returned his vehicle to his home. He won't remember much of what happened, and there will be no evidence we were there.”

“But he might remember some?”

“Mason is vengeful, and he operates outside the law. He will take it upon himself to get revenge rather than calling the police on me.”

“You seem sure.”

“I am.”

Will poured out more whiskey, and shot Hannibal a narrowed gaze. “So, why come back here?”

Hannibal took a seat in one of the chairs before the fire. He gazed down into the amber pool of whiskey in his glass, his expression sobering.

“We agreed to remain friends, but we haven't been friendly since Margot lost the child.”

“We both know why.”

“Forgive me, Will, but when I informed Mason of Margot's desire to become pregnant, I didn't see this outcome.”

“Don't lie to me.” Will said, “What are you pandering to? My hurt, my loss? Be honest; we can be honest with each other, even if it's about something as terrible as that child's death.”

Hannibal pursed his lips. His eyes hovered between the glass of whiskey, and Will's frosty gaze, at last lifting to meet Will's with trembling defiance.

“I wanted you for myself.” He said, “Because you understand me, and because you've made me feel things that no one else could possibly manufacture.”

“You're selfish. You want me, but if you really felt anything real for me, you wouldn't take away the things I care about. If you really loved me, you would stop.”

“But have you asked me to stop? Have you ever said, “please, if you love me, stop”?”

“I'm telling you now.”

“You dictate what my actions should be. You haven't plead with me.”

“You need me to ask for you to realize that you should stop hurting me? Isn't it obvious?”

“What we want, and what we say are often two different things.”

“Fine.” Will said, “I want you to stop. Please.”

Hannibal gazed at him for a long moment, his eyes mercurial and distant. He drew in a shallow breath, and rose from the chair. He passed within an inch of Will as he walked to the desk to pour out more of the whiskey. He took a shallow swallow, his eyes pinned to the window and the darkness beyond.

“I never asked you to stop.” He murmured, “Even when you've hurt me, I never plead with you.”

“You mean when I was … beating you.” Will whispered.

“Yes. And when you were rejecting me.”

“That's not the same.”

“Isn't it? I gave my body to you, completely. I made myself defenseless to you, and gave you full control and ownership of me. You laid me to waste, and I was yet wanton for more – you've twisted every dark and guilty pleasure from me. Every hidden thing, I've shown you. And yet, you reject me as a stranger.”

“I didn't ask you to give those things to me.”

“Yet, I did.”

“You did because it was what you wanted to do.”

“Don't lie to me now, Will.” Hannibal said, casting a cutting gaze to Will, “Don't pretend it wasn't also what you wanted. You took the belt from my hand, and punished me with all your fervor and satisfaction displayed openly.”

Will took a swallow of his whiskey, letting it burn down his throat to mask the heat of shame. He turned away, pacing the length of the room before circling back to Hannibal's stance before the fire.

“Fine, if honesty is what you want.” He said, “I did enjoy those things. I allowed myself those moments of weakness that felt like strength because they made me feel alive and in control. They made me feel … powerful. But, that doesn't mean it's right. That doesn't mean it's sustainable.”

“Why isn't it?”

“Because … Because we're bad for each other. You see what just happened? A child is dead, a woman is butchered, and a man is left half-dead because of what we are to each other. Because you can't live with the idea that I could have anyone else in my life except you. This is a runaway train, and I won't be responsible for the damage and the toll it takes when it finally crashes. I've done the right thing, Hannibal. I've tried to end this.”

Hannibal set his glass down with a clank that splashed out a bit of the whiskey across the desk.

“Damn the right thing, Will. I've never wanted anything more than I want you.”

Will drew in shuddering breath as Hannibal's eyes touched his, hot and aching like a branding iron. He could feel their scald all over his body even as he looked away and tried to tell himself that gaze wouldn't be responsible for one more downfall in the cover of night.

“Forget morality.” Hannibal said, “You said yourself that we make mercy and murder. We make morality, and if that is true, we can unmake it.”

He marched across the room, seizing Will's face between his hands in raw, unveiled desperation that he'd kept hidden away for so long.

Will gasped as Hannibal's mouth crushed across his, teeth and flesh clashing in a desperate bid to change Will's mind. Will's hand trembled against Hannibal's chest, pushing in a weak attempt to separate them, before melting into a clutching grip around the lapels of his jacket. His legs turned weak underneath him, and his mouth lax to the caress of Hannibal's mouth. He leaned hard against Hannibal's chest, clutching onto his clothes for support as Hannibal's kiss laid waste to his senses.

One arm slipped around Will's waist, dragging him across the room to the edge of the desk. He held Will there against the table as he dragged his mouth across Will's lips, jaw and throat, leaving a pattern of flushed skin and smeared saliva in his wake. His teeth snared across the tender flesh of Will's throat, pressing a vibrating growl into the wild pounding of the carotid artery and leaving blooming bruises up and down the column of Will's throat.

Will grasped on to Hannibal's shoulder with one hand, and supported himself against the edge of the desk with the other. Lifting one leg around Hannibal's thigh, he pulled Hannibal closer over him. The desk jolted under their weight, legs scraping across the hard wood floor loud and high-pitched over the ragged sound of their moaning.

Hannibal's hands searched down Will's body, rubbing eagerly through fabric before finding the hem of his shirt. His hand slipped underneath, smoothing up the expanding ridges of Will's ribs to find the hardening peak of his nipple. The flesh ached and peaked under the caress of Hannibal's thumb, and Will moaned into Hannibal's mouth in needy anticipation.

“Fuck ...” Will moaned, “Please.”

He grabbed onto the hair at Hannibal's nape, and yanked Hannibal's head up from his throat so that their eyes could meet.

Hannibal's eyes were wide, pupils dilated and pulsing with desire. Pink color rode high on his cheekbones and scorched down his throat to the cinch of his tie.

“You don't know how I burn for you.” Hannibal whispered.

He grasped Will's hip, and dragged him closer. Will balanced on the edge of the desk as their hips met, crotches grinding hard cock against hard cock.

“Fuck.” Will moaned past gritted teeth. “Jesus Christ, I want you.”

“Let me take you.” Hannibal whispered.

He leaned in to drag his mouth against Will's jaw and cheek. His breath blasted hot across Will's skin right before his warm, wet lips consumed Will's earlobe.

Will moaned, arching against the desk as shivers surged down his spine and into his aching crotch. Of their own accord, his hands searched at Hannibal's chest and throat for the fastenings of his clothes. He pulled the tie askew and worked buttons open with trembling, uncoordinated fingers. Hannibal leaned back, ripping out of his coat, and the shirt as soon as Will had finished unbuttoning it. He yanked the tie over his head, leaving his hair disheveled and his chest bare of clothing.

The moment the shirt and tie were gone, he grabbed at Will's clothing, ripping seams under his eagerness. He pulled the shirt off over Will's head, and dug his fingers under the waistband of the pants and boxers. Both layers of fabric came down in one pull, leaving Will's cock standing upright and bare against his stomach. He throbbed visibly, pink and purple veins bulging up and down the shaft, translucent pre-cum shining at the tip.

“Oh, god.” Will moaned. He looped a hand around the base of his cock, holding the swelling ache at bay.

Hannibal grabbed Will by the hips, and pulled him down from the desk. Will stumbled as his feet touched the ground, legs too weak to support himself under the strain of need he'd been holding back for days. Hannibal spun him around, and pushed him down across the desk. The whiskey bottle inched dangerously close the edge of the desk, but Will could have been deaf to it shattering if it had fallen. Hannibal's hands consumed his flesh and his mind, touching him better than he remembered, igniting need anew.

Will gasped as Hannibal's hand touched between his legs, fingers sliding up the underside of his balls, to the cleft, and against his clenched hole. It was a simple caress, so light and tender it could barely constitute the reaction his body had, but he clenched hard at the groin and felt the needy ache within him skyrocket to an unbearable peak.

He arched across the desk, digging his toes into the floor and lifted his ass toward Hannibal's touch as Hannibal proceeded to drag his thumb in a torturous circle around his hole. Will could feel his muscles flexing and clamping against the intrusion, but the thought of Hannibal thrusting his cock in past the resistance made him weak with desire.

Hannibal paused to wet his thumb across his tongue, and the touch returned warm and moist with saliva. Will flinched and choked on a moan as Hannibal smoothed the saliva across his hole and pressed the the tip of his thumb just inside.

“So very tight.” Hannibal murmured, pressing his thumb deeper.

Will gasped, arching wildly against the desk. His body stiffened as Hannibal's thumb slipped in past the knuckle, stretching his unprepared hole with an exquisitely slow, aching push.

He swallowed back the moaning when Hannibal withdrew his hand. Glancing over his shoulder, Will caught glimpse of Hannibal going down to his knees behind him. He drew stiff as hot breath across his cleft heralded the caress of Hannibal's lips against him.

Hannibal's mouth was warm, wet, and gentle as it touched against Will's taut hole. The first few licks slipped across his flesh like a gliding snake, leaving him trembling and breathless.

“I'm going to open you.” Hannibal whispered. His voice riding across Will's spine and down his ears like a thousand prickling needles. “You're going to gape for my cock so wide that it hurts.”

Will gasped, grabbing onto the edge of the desk as Hannibal's mouth returned, suckling at the taut, swelling pucker of his hole. His lips suctioned about the flesh, suckling for long, torturous moments before released Will's flesh to tingle and ache. When his mouth touched again, it was to spread a long, swirling lick up and down the cleft before focusing on the hole.

Will squirmed as Hannibal's tongue circled his hole for long moments, treating it gently and convincing the muscles to relax to the intrusion. Will could feel himself going soft from the inside out, eager for tongue, fingers, cock, eager to be filled if only by Hannibal.

Hannibal lapped at the gathering saliva and curled the tip of his tongue against the opening. It pressed against Will's hole, begging passage and finding a small opening that bloomed wider and wider to the press of his tongue.

“Ohhh.” Will moaned.

He arched up from the desk, eyes wildly searching over his shoulder to watch as Hannibal's tongue pressed into him. Writhing and stiffening, it tunneled into his tight hole while Hannibal's broad hands held his ass cheeks open. Pleasure poured molten through his body, draining down into his cock where he began to throb with aching desire.

“Hannibal ...” Will whined, hips pushing back against Hannibal's tongue, “Fuck … please.”

Hannibal's tongue slithered out of him, and up across his tailbone. He paused there, lips gleaming in a wicked smile above the curve of Will's ass. His hand followed the swell of one ass cheek, and slipped between the find the wet opening.

Will fell down his elbows against the desk, toes losing purchase across the smooth, hardwood floor. A moan wrenched from his throat as Hannibal pressed a finger inside of him, slow and steady, filling him the knuckle.

“Oh my god ...” Will panted.

Hannibal slowly rose from his knees to bend over Will's cowering, shivering body. He slid his hand up Will's neck, delving his fingers into damp curls and over the crown of Will's head. His fingers clamped down a handful of hair, yanking Will's head up from the desk as he pushed his finger deeper inside.

Will came up from the desk gasping and writhing. His legs trembled to support himself as Hannibal lifted him to his feet. His finger stayed lodge inside of Will's body as he pulled Will away from the table.

“Walk.” He hissed in Will's ear.

Will moaned as he took a few steps forward, feeling the pressure of Hannibal's finger inside him with every step. Hannibal's hand curled tighter around his hair, holding his head back and guiding him toward the kitchen.

Will walked in slow, trembling steps, biting back whimpers as Hannibal continued to pump his finger in and out of his hole. By the time they made it into the kitchen, he was moaning aloud and spilling pre-cum down his cock.

Hannibal guided Will to the counter, and nodded toward the cabinets.

“Find me something slick.” He whispered, “I want to fuck you hard and fast, Will.”

Will reached up with trembling hands to open the cabinets. He pawed through the various bottles and bags of spices and other cooking ingredients before finding the olive oil. He pulled it down from the shelf, and held it up for Hannibal's approval.

“Good. Bend over the counter.”

Will lowered himself to the smooth, cool counter top. He pressed his cheek against the counter to watch as Hannibal uncapped the oil and poured some out into his palm. He rubbed his fingers through the small pool of oil until they were slick and glistening in the dim light. He swiped the rest between Will's legs, smearing the oil over the underside of his balls and all the way up the cleft. Will bit back a gasp that quickly deteriorated into a long moan of pleasure as Hannibal pressed his slick fingers into the wet opening. They delved deep with the first pump of Hannibal's hand, sliding slick and easy on the olive oil to find Will's prostate.

“Oh my god.” Will choked out.

His hands slipped across the smooth counter top as two of Hannibal's fingers nudged up against his prostate. Pleasure sparked fresh and hot through his body, reverberating through his cock with a nearly painful throb.

“Good.” Hannibal murmured.

One hand gripped and stroked across Will's hip while the other pumped into him, working Will open with a deft, quick touch. Eager and throbbing, Will thrust back against the pump of Hannibal's hand, rocking his hips into the penetration that was increasingly insufficient.

“Fuck, please ...” Will moaned.

“That's good.” Hannibal replied, giving Will's flank a squeeze, “Tell me what you need.”

Will moaned, licking at his dry lips, and searching for his voice. His cheeks flamed hot with need as he rutted against Hannibal's fingers like a senseless animal.

“I need … I need your cock.” He moaned, “I need you to fuck me.”

“I told you you were going to gape for me.” Hannibal murmured.

He pressed a third finger into Will's hole, stretching him for brief moments before Will's needy body opened to the fresh intrusion.

“Look at you, so open and ready.” Hannibal whispered.

“Please.” Will panted, “I'm ready.”

Hannibal's fingers slipped out of him, leaving Will quaking and achingly empty. He lifted his head from the counter to gaze back at Hannibal. Hannibal stood back, eyes raking up and down Will's displayed body, his ass and thighs dripped with oil and bright pink with penetration.

Hannibal's cock stood in a hard lump against his pants, aching to be free of the material.

Will rose on his toes, arching his ass invitingly to urge Hannibal into motion.

Hannibal lunged on him again, hand tangling back into Will's curls and forcing his face down against the counter top. Will moaned as he felt Hannibal's hand between them, working his belt and zipper open. The pants slipped down his thighs, and he pressed his cock between Will's ass cheeks with only the thin barrier of his boxers between them.

“Oh, yes.” Will panted, grinding back against him, “Put it in me.”

Hannibal's hand tightened around the back of Will's neck as he shifted off to the side. Will dangled over the edge of the counter, his toes barely holding him in place. He writhed helplessly as Hannibal pulled the belt from the loops of his pants. The leather slithered free, letting the pants drop to Hannibal's ankles while the belt remained clutched in his hand.

Will's charging, blazing pleasure slowed as Hannibal gazed down at him with a cold, calculating smile. He folded the belt in half, gripping the buckle and the end in his hand and dangling the length of the strap above Will's exposed flesh.

“What are you doing?” Will asked.

His heart took off at a cold, jolting pace, hammering through his chest now out of dread rather than desire. He struggled against the counter, but Hannibal's hand around the back of his neck effectively held him pinned down.

“I told you, if you broke off our private relationship, you couldn't come back.” Hannibal said, “You accepted that stipulation because you thought you were strong enough to deflect my advances.”

Will swallowed hard, his palms going sweaty against the counter.

“I told you not to come back.” Hannibal whispered, “I should hold to that to punish you for ever leaving in the first place.”

“Please.” Will whispered, his voice registering thin and whiny.

“Instead, I choose to punish you the way you punished me.” Hannibal continued. He dragged the leather across Will's backside, raising a tingle in his flesh and jolt of dread through his gut.

“Hannibal, please.” Will whispered, “Fuck, please. I'm sorry.”

“Don't you consider this merciful?” Hannibal murmured, his eyes focusing on Will's exposed ass, “If you want to continue our private, sexual relationship, this is what I must do. This is how you will repay me before you take any more from me.”

Will closed his eyes, and breathed steadily, trying to in vain to slow the dull pounding of his heart.

“Okay.” He whispered.

“You agree?”

“Yes, okay.” Will opened his eyes to see Hannibal gazing at him in mild surprise and absolute satisfaction.

“Good.” Hannibal said, his mouth tilting in a smile.

Before Will could offer any further apology and plea, he raised the belt over his shoulder. It came down with a loud, harsh crack, slicing first through the air, and then across Will's tender flesh. Pain scorched across Will's ass, pulling a wounded, high-pitched cry from his lips.

He hadn't been honest with Hannibal when they'd discussed discipline in childhood; his father hadn't punished him this way. Not ever. He'd never felt such pain before in his life, but now, as he lay under the sting of Hannibal's belt, he realized his lust for violence didn't stop at inflicting it. As Hannibal brought the belt down across his backside again and again, he felt a hot, clutching desire swell low in his belly unlike anything he'd ever felt before.

Utter desire, scorching pain, and racing realization filled his brain with a tangled haze as Hannibal whipped the belt over his ass in a quick, relentless rhythm. After the first few white-hot, paralyzing lashes, his body jarred into a needy reaction of writhing and moaning across the counter top. The pain burned through his skin, and into his bones, going from stinging, to burning, to dull aching under the punishing blow of the belt.

He squeezed his eyes shut over hot tears that sprung thick to his eyelids. The sound of the leather cracking across his flesh rang through his ears in a way that he knew he would be hearing that sound play through his head for nights to come. It was it's own separate, sordid pleasure from the pain, a soundtrack to his internal, violent needs, and so wildly different from hearing that sound associated with being on the other side of the punishment that he couldn't quite verify them as the same sound.

But the pain – God, the exquisite, scorching, stinging pain of it – was something entirely separate from all they had done to each other before, separate from what he'd done to Hannibal. He couldn't think of the power that had raced through his own head when he wielded the whip over Hannibal's prostrate body, only of the pain and pleasure of the breath-taking pain that reverberated through his body with each lash. It was both hot and cold, melting away all else, stripping him down to his smallest, weakest self and laying him bare to Hannibal's eyes. He was nothing more than a quivering mess of twisted desires and half-formed attempts at satiating them, a poor showing of motivation and ability to see them through.

Ground down to this quivering, moaning body of hidden thoughts he was too afraid to follow, he realized he couldn't have denied Hannibal much longer if he had even tried. He was slave to these moments of intimacy and violence, the shadow between light and day where they existed in another dimension of pleasure and pain. A real part of himself was caught up in the ebb and flow of pleasure, nonexistent in the light of day where he shriveled without this pleasure, this reinforcement that he was needed, wanted, glorified even.

When Hannibal dropped the belt to the floor with a clank of the buckle against tile, Will wilted against the counter top, powerless and tearful.

Hannibal leaned over him, smoothing hair back from his cheek and pressing a warm kiss to his jaw.

“I forgive you, Will.” He whispered.

Will lifted himself up to his elbows, his head swimming with need and disoriented self-hatred. He swiped the olive oil from the counter, and pressed it into Hannibal's hands.

“Take me.” He whispered, his voice raw and hoarse.

Hannibal gazed at him with dark, fiery eyes, consuming the look of utter desperation on Will's face, the streaked tears, the flushed cheeks.

He snagged his fingers behind Will's neck, and pulled Will away from the counter and against his chest. His mouth swooped down to claim Will's, kissing with a fervor and heat and desperation that Will hadn't felt since that first time. It was the tremble of fear – fear of losing everything, fear of failing, fear of never getting everything you desire.

When Hannibal's mouth let up, he dragged Will with him back into the living room and pressed him down on the couch. Will fell back against the cushions, lifting his legs above his head with eager need as Hannibal stripped out of his boxers.

He fell to his knees between Will's raised legs, his eyes consuming every bit of Will's exposed body. He poured out some of the oil, and set the bottle on the floor as he brought his wet fingers to his own cock. He smoothed the oil across his thick, throbbing shaft with a few quick pumps of his fist, and bent down over Will.

He guided his cock straight to Will's entrance, and pressed the head just past the first clench of muscle. Will's mouth fell open in a soft gasp as Hannibal pressed into him at a slow, but unrelenting pace. Grabbing onto Hannibal's shoulders, he pulled Hannibal down against him, and buried his face in the warm, familiar smelling crook of his neck. Their bodies pressed together, trembling and sweaty and eager as Hannibal rocked gently into Will.

“Oh god.” Will moaned, his voice muffled in Hannibal's neck.

Hannibal reached down to cradle Will's hip, holding him still as their bodies met flush. He rested there for a moment, his cock entirely buried in Will's trembling body, his balls resting high and taut against the top of the cleft.

“Oh … Will.” He whispered, his voice strained by pleasure.

Will lifted his face from Hannibal's throat to gaze into his eyes. What he saw there made him tremble, not out of fear, but out of awe because no one had ever gazed down at him with such devotion and need the way Hannibal was now.

“Please.” Will whispered, “Take me.”

Hannibal's hips rolled against him, pressing in deeper for a few breathless moments before pulling back to the tip. He plunged slow and determined back inside, hips holding utter control over his bucking, aching cock. Will could feel him throbbing huge and ready spill inside him, and his own cock jumped in satisfaction at Hannibal's soaring desires.

Hannibal cradled Will's jaw as he started off at a slow, rhythmic pace. His thumb slid along Will's jaw and under his chin, pushing his head back to expose his throat. Will moaned as Hannibal's mouth dove down to taste his throat, suckling along the throb of his heartbeat and the pulse of Hannibal's hips. Pleasure tingled through his throat and down his spine, arching his body against the solid pressure of Hannibal's chest.

Will dragged his fingers over Hannibal's shoulders and down his back, digging his nails into bunched muscle. He raked his hands all the way down to grip Hannibal's ass, pulling him down into a faster thrust. Hannibal moaned into Will's throat, masking high, pathetic whimper in to the curve of Will's shoulder.

“Fuck.” Will moaned.

He lifted his legs higher on either side of Hannibal's body, leaving himself entirely vulnerable to the thick, long thrust of Hannibal's cock. He panted a moan into Hannibal's ear, and clawed at his back and hips, pressing his eager desire into every touch. His cock pulsed hard and aching against his belly, but the insatiable need that filled his head was not just to come. Oh yes, he wanted to come hard and wet all over himself, but first, he wanted Hannibal to claim hard, deep, passionate. He wanted it fast and dirty, no suppositions or subterfuge between them.

Hannibal rose over him, catching the undersides of Will's thighs just below the knee. He pressed Will's legs open higher and wider, and dug his knees into the cushion to leverage his hips faster against Will's ass. His hips rocked against Will's backside, slamming his cock in deep and hard, sending thrills of pain and pleasure all through Will's trembling body.

“Yes, yes!” Will moaned.

He grabbed at the couch cushions to anchor himself still against Hannibal's animal thrusting. Their bodies smacked together in obscene, wet smacks, filling the air with the sound of their wild coupling and guttural moans.

Hannibal pulled to a stop just long enough to flip Will's over onto his stomach. Will struggled to get his knees under himself as Hannibal pressed his cock back inside. Hannibal's driven thrusts came down on Will's struggling stance, driving him down with his face against the cushions, his knees wedged between two couch cushions, and his ass raised in the air. Hannibal grabbed onto his hips, fucking into him with the drive of a freight train, and the growl of an animal heat. His hips struck with punishing force against Will's ass, driving his cock to the deepest Will could take it every time, and wringing strangled cries from Will's stretched open lips.

The frantic thrusting lasted another few moments before Hannibal stiffened over Will's raised ass, his hand clamping tight around Will's hips hard enough to bruise. Will gasped as Hannibal filled him with spurt after spurt of hot, sticky cum. The orgasm seemed to last an eternity, but it was only a matter of moments before Hannibal fell back against the couch, milking the last of his release from his cock.

Will dropped down next to him, wincing as pain reverberated through the lower half of his body.

“God.” He whispered.

Hannibal breathed steadily, his dark eyes tracking down Will's flushed face and throat, down his chest, and the tremble of his belly, down to the rigid stance of his pink, weeping cock. He sat up, and shifted across the couch cushions to where Will slouched against the arm of the couch.

He flicked a finger at Will's thighs.

“Spread your legs.”

Will bit back a hitched breath at the command. He shifted his legs open as Hannibal slipped down off the couch and prowled across the floor to where Will's right leg fell over the edge of the couch.

Will gasped as Hannibal's mouth touched his knee. Every nerve-ending was raw and open with the over stimulation of pleasure and pain. The simplest touch made his body jump and spark as if shocked.

Hannibal's mouth tracked kisses down Will's thigh to the inside where the flesh was especially tender and sensitive. Will gasped, arching against the couch as Hannibal nuzzled at the inside of his thigh and at last found Will's drawn, swollen balls with his mouth.

“Oh god!” Will cried.

His fingers latched on to Hannibal's hair as Hannibal's mouth surrounded the right side of the tender sac. He suckled softly across the swell of flesh, fitting his mouth around one tender orb. His hands curled around Will's inner thighs, pushing them open wider to accommodate the path of his mouth across Will's now throbbing testicles.

“Hannibal ...” Will whined.

His back arched from the couch as tingles swept through his body. Hannibal's mouth suckled across the small pucker between his balls, and found the left side. He swirled his tongue across the flesh for several moments before suckling it into his mouth.

Will moaned, his hand creeping toward his throbbing, dripping cock. His orgasm hovered at the edge of his mind, teasing him with it's closeness. Hannibal's mouth fostered the aching pleasure, and held him there on the edge where on little touch would send him toppling into climax.

“Fuck, please.” Will panted.

Hannibal's gaze lifted just as Will's fingers brushed against his cock.

His mouth left Will's crotch in a snarl. Catching Will's wrist, he forced it back down against the couch cushion with harsh twist.

“Do not … touch.” He ordered in a low whisper.

“Please.” Will moaned, “It's so close. I can feel it.”

“You'll come.” Hannibal murmured, “But not if you touch yourself.”

Will pursed his lips over another protest, but held his hand in a fist against the cushion.

Hannibal ducked back down, teasing at Will's balls with his tongue and lips. The pleasure rode high in Will's belly, clenching hard on the verge of orgasm. Will squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out all else but the throb of pleasure resting taut in his balls. His cock flexed against his stomach, so hard he ached, so close he could feel warm pre-cum slipping down the shaft.

The torture lasted several more infinite moments before Hannibal clamped his fist around Will's cock. Will gasped, arching up off the couch as Hannibal took Will in his pumping fist. His mouth left Will's balls to watch the pleasure rise like a tide and consume Will's ready, trembling body.

Will gasped, bucking against the clutch of Hannibal's fist as the orgasm at last surged through his body. Pleasure scorched through him, blooming fireworks behind his eyes, and exploding warm, wet release from the tip of his cock. Hannibal massaged him all the way through the orgasm, milking him of every last drop with a firm grip. Will cracked his eyes open moments later to see pearly release sliding down his cock and between Hannibal's fingers.

Hannibal released him, and sat back against his heels. His hair stood askew in every direction, and his cheeks were colored pink with satisfaction. Cum dried on his softening cock and hand.

“God.” Will whispered.

Hannibal rose from the floor, and offered Will his clean hand.

“God has nothing to do with it.”

 

~

 

Once they finished showering together, it required little persuasion for Hannibal to convince Will that he should stay the night. After weakly offering up the couch, Will ducked his head and led them to the bed shoved into the corner of the room.

“No bedroom?” Hannibal asked.

“I don't use it.” Will said, “I prefer to be out here if the dogs need something. They sleep in front of the fire.”

Hannibal laid down on the mattress and tested it's softness.

“I know it's not the best.” Will said, “But it never bothered me because I don't sleep that well anyway.”

Hannibal propped himself up on his elbow, and put a hand on Will's knee.

“It's perfectly fine … as long as you're in it next to me.”

Will chuckled nervously, and turned his face away to hide a flush.

Snaring Will's wrist, Hannibal pulled Will down on the mattress next to him, and pressed kisses over his mouth and blushing cheeks. The kisses slowed as he reached Will's throat, pressing his face into the warmth and intoxicating smell of fresh soap and clean skin.

“I missed this.” He whispered, “Above all else, we as humans crave companionship and contact; and though I've tried, I'm not immune to the pleasure of lying next to you, our arms around each other.”

“I wasn't gone long.” Will muttered.

“Not long was long enough.”

“You must think I'm so pathetic.” Will said, “I can't stay away from you for a week, even if you have done something terrible to upset me.”

“I don't find you pathetic at all.”

“Spineless.” Will muttered, turning his face away from Hannibal's mouth, “All it took was a little persuasion and you touching me for me to deteriorate into a pathetic, cock hungry-”

“Will,” Hannibal said, sharply.

“What? It's true.”

“I won't allow you to speak of yourself in such a derogatory manner.”

Will sat up on the edge of the bed, and pressed his face into his hands. Hannibal watched his shoulders rise with shallow, agitated breaths for a few moments before he reached out to touch Will's back.

“You hate yourself for how you feel about me.”

There was a pause before Will whispered into his hands, “Yes.”

“Do you hate me?”

Will dragged his hands from his face, and glanced at Hannibal wide, wet eyes. He shook his head. “God … no.”

“I see.”

“I don't think you do. I don't think you understand what you do to me.”

“It can be no worse than what you do to me.”

“I think it can.”

Hannibal joined Will on the edge of the bed, and folded his hands taut over his thighs.

“Will.” He murmured, “As you well know, I pride myself in having utter control over my own life and decisions. What self am I, if another person is directing my fate? I couldn't face myself in the mirror if I left myself at another's mercy … But, when you cast your thrall on me, I can't recall any motivation or language to combat submission. Now that you've left your imprint on me, I don't think I could forget you if you were to ever leave.”

“Thrall.” Will echoed, a dubious chuckle lacing through the word.

Hannibal cast Will a somber gaze. “Will, if you left, you couldn't know that I was ever real. You couldn't know that we were real. Your mind is fluid and adaptive. It could create another reality where I never existed. You would never feel this pain again. But I ...” He swallowed thickly, and turned his gaze to the floor, “I remember everything. From childhood until now, the details are like crystal glass embedded in the walls of my mind. You've found your way to the center, and made yourself a home there.”

Silence filled the room for long moments, broken only by the distant ticking of a clock, and the dogs making noise in another room.

Will processed Hannibal's words with difficulty, fulling understanding their meaning side by side, but unable to swallow the whole of them. In between Hannibal's truth and his own stood a brick wall of perception, a one way mirror facing the world and gazing back at Will in all it's ugliness and brutality, all it's underhanded tricks and barbed wires hidden by warm and inviting facades. He would never be able to see Hannibal's perception no matter how hard he empathized or imagined.

“I'm not what you think.” Will said, at last.

“What do I think you are?”

“A rare bird. An anomaly. Something special.”

“Anomaly suggests strangeness.”

“That might be true, but I'm nothing special. I'm just a guy with a very active imagination.”

“An imagination that has done something no one ever has.”

“And what's that?”

A bittersweet smile touched Hannibal's mouth and disappeared in the next instant as he touched Will's cheek.

“Understood me.”

Will blinked. “You told me I hadn't unlocked your secrets yet.”

“I pride myself in being a cipher, Will, but you found the key. Perhaps my vanity has disallowed me from accepting the truth of it, yet … here we are.”

“I feel like there's a question behind that answer.”

Hannibal pulled Will to him, pressing warm kisses to the corner of his mouth and cheek between whispered response, “No more questions tonight. Just this.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Will woke alone, an impending sense of doom resting heavy on his chest. Daylight spilled through the window, and the dogs pawed at the door to be let out where the birds sang a cheerful tune. The world screamed beauty and cheer, but just beyond the horizon, storm clouds billowed.

His entire body ached from the brutal, unleashed passion of the night before. It rested in every muscle, bone, and joint, recalling back the lash of the belt, the drive of Hannibal's body over his own.

Will rubbed his eyes, and rolled over to see a piece of paper sitting on the pillow next to his. He snatched it from the pillow, already dreading the words written out in uniform, flowing script.

 

_Will,_

_Despite what intimacies were spoken between us, I feel a question still hovers in the back of your mind. My own is clear and set as flint. If you decide you want to continue our relationship, don't come to my office for your next therapy appointment. Come instead to my home. If I don't see you at that time, I'll know that you've made your decision to go separate ways, and I promise that this time, I will honor your choice. After all, what beauty remains if it is contrived and twisted from something dark and ugly?_

 

Will sighed, and dropped the note to the sheets.

He knew what he had to do, and yet, he wished he could turn his back and escape both the reality of he and Jack's investigation, and the fantasy he had willingly fallen into with Hannibal. He was trapped. What other world could possibly lay beyond reality and fantasy, two worlds now marred by the beautiful, capable hands of Hannibal Lecter?

 

~

 

Hannibal poured out a second glass of wine as the clock hands crept toward eight o'clock. Thirty minutes had now passed since the time Will normally would have been arriving at his therapy appointment. Thirty minutes since he hadn't arrived at Hannibal's door step.

Hannibal took a sip of the wine, and savored it at the back of his tongue as he dragged the scalpel from the edge of the table. With a steady hand, he shaved away bits of the tip of the pencil until the graphite was a sharp, gleaming point.

He saw no use in pacing, or otherwise engaging himself in energy wasting worry. He channeled his negative energy into positive outlets such as art; ever since taking up this tactic, he'd found himself being much more productive and accomplished in a variety of ways.

Hannibal put the pencil back to paper, smoothing out lines and curves with an unwavering hand. His pulse was steady, controlled.

Either Will showed, or he didn't.

Either he ended it all tonight, or accepted Hannibal's hand, and stepped through the doorway into their own world.

Hannibal didn't think about his reaction to either situation. He grounded himself in this moment, passing the seconds with measured breaths and scratches of pencil over paper.

The clock read eight thirty when a soft knock on the door jarred Hannibal's concentration. He had completed the outline of a figure on the paper. It required shading and finishing touches to be complete, yet he pushed it aside with abrupt, unbridled joy.

He composed himself as he reached the front door, swallowing back the smile that played at his lips. Drawing in a breath, he pulled the door open.

Will stood on the other side, his hands pushed into his coat pockets, his head down.

“Will.”

Will looked up, his expression ragged and worn from his own worrying.

Hannibal glanced at his watch. “It's eight thirty already.”

Will bit his lower lip. “I'm sorry I made you wait.”

“It's nothing.” Hannibal said, “Please, come in.”

Will hesitated for a brief moment before stepping across the threshold. Hannibal secured the door behind them, and followed Will into the house.

“You considered not coming.”

Will turned slowly to face him. He nodded.

“It was a hard decision. I'm pleased you made this one.”

“I already knew what I wanted to do.” Will said. He gave a soft, forced laugh, “God, I knew this was the outcome before I even finished reading your note.”

“The heart and mind are always at war. Love or logic.”

“Logic told me this is a mistake.” Will whispered, “But, it doesn't matter.”

“Everything matters. Every choice we make-”

“It doesn't matter because no matter what I do from now on, no matter where I go, who I'm with, what I'm doing – you're always going to be in my head, in the back of my mind reminding me I made the wrong decision.”

“You would find a way to let go eventually.”

“Would you?”

Hannibal glanced away as Will's gaze sliced through him, straight to his heart. For a moment, the pulse in his temples soared, terrified and out of control.

“No.”

“That's what I thought.”

Silence yawned between them as Will shrugged out of his coat, and hung it by the door. Hannibal eased out a breath as he nudged his shoes off as well. He was here to stay. For now.

“Do you have whiskey?” Will asked.

“Of course.”

Hannibal led them back to his study where he had been drawing, and brought out an unopened bottle for Will. He cracked open the lid, and poured out a glass as Will stood over the desk, observing the half finished drawing.

“Is this me?” He asked.

Hannibal looked over Will's shoulder, noting the drawing for a moment how he thought Will might be seeing it.

“Yes.” Hannibal whispered, “It doesn't quite match the real thing, however.”

“It's very good.”

“It's not finished.”

“I like it like this.” Will said, taking the drawing from the table to inspect it more closely, “It's raw and messy …”

“I rarely leave a drawing unfinished.”

“It's in the eyes of the beholder whether it's finished or not.”

“I won't finish it then.”

Hannibal set the whiskey on the desk in order to put both hands around Will's hips, and drag him closer. Will uttered a quiet sound of satisfaction as their hips collided. Hannibal nosed along Will's neck, breathing in his scent, and exhaling hot breath over the soft flesh. He held back from tasting until the heat soared between them, and Will was grinding back against him, his neck open and vulnerable. The taste of him was exquisite, and though familiar, it jarred Hannibal each and every time he pressed his mouth to the sweet stretch of skin. He kissed up the rising pulse until he reached Will's jawline, pausing just long enough to sample his earlobe before baring his teeth to the dip just underneath Will's jaw. Will moaned, and grabbed onto the edge of the desk, anchoring himself still as Hannibal's hips undulated against him.

Hannibal sank his teeth into soft, waiting flesh, relishing in the responsive tremor of Will's body, and the fragile, pained moan that rose from his lips. He bit until he tasted a hint of blood, and drew back to gaze at the minuscule puncture wound surrounded by red, sucked flesh. Bruises sprang up along Will's throat, a row of flower blossoms dropped by Hannibal's ravenous affections.

Hannibal licked at the small bead of blood, and uttered a low growl into Will's ear.

“What is it you want, darling?”

Will's eyes opened wide to the question.

“You came here despite everything telling you to stay away from me.” Hannibal whispered, “You've given yourself to me, and I intend to reward that sacrifice fully.”

Will swallowed hard. He palmed erection straining against his pants, and dragged his hand down the stiffening length.

Hannibal drew in a shuddering breath, and thrust harder against Will's ass. His own cock raged against the fabric barriers that stood between them, long and aching and hungry for release at Will's hands.

“I'll give you whatever you want.” Hannibal whispered.

“You were so rough with me last time.” Will said, his voice low and throaty, “I can't take it again.”

“Whatever you want.” Hannibal repeated, “I willingly submit myself to you.”

Will twisted around in Hannibal's embrace, coming to face him with wide, blue eyes pulsing with need, and cheeks already blushing rosy.

“Forgive me for hurting you.” Hannibal said, lowering his head, “I give you full consent to take as much and as forcefully as I did.”

“No.” Will murmured. He slid his fingertips under Hannibal's chin, and tilted it up so that their eyes could meet, “No, I wanted you to take me like that. I wanted it to hurt.”

“To punish yourself?”

“You punished me well enough on your own.”

“For transgressions toward me. I'm speaking of the transgressions toward yourself.”

“Maybe.”

“You've paid dearly, then. You've given yourself to punishment for both me and you. Tonight is a reward, a gift.”

“I don't need much.”

“I'll give you however much, or what little you need.”

Will sighed, and drew his thumb across Hannibal's cheek. His eyes were distant and misty like a soft, spring rain approaching, release and sorrow all bundled into one.

“I'm tired.” He whispered, “I'm tired of fighting and hurting. I want quiet, Hannibal. Peace. For one night, that's all I want.”

Hannibal's arms wound around him, drawing him into squeezing embrace that pushed the tears to his eyelids. Hannibal said nothing of the emotion, but pressed kisses against his burning cheeks and trembling mouth. Will leaned into the caresses, drawing in a hitched breath as Hannibal's hands traveled his body, undoing fastenings and sliding underneath to touch skin.

When their lips joined harder, Hannibal tore the shirt from Will's arms and pushed the pants into a bundle at his ankles. Will moaned as Hannibal's hand dove between them, curling around fabric and flesh, gently gathering his testicles and smoothing up the throbbing shaft.

Will leaned back against the desk as Hannibal slipped the boxers down just far enough to grasp naked flesh. His hand glided up and down Will's hard cock, drawing it to the peak of arousal and wringing soft, desperate moans from Will's mouth.

Hannibal tore his mouth from Will's, and gazed down at Will's red, throbbing cock in his grasp. Slipping a hand behind Will's neck, he pressed their foreheads together and shoved between Will's thighs with his hips. His own erection stood hard and aching against the front of his pants, obscene when paired with the fine fabric and tailoring.

Will's eyes slipped open to watch Hannibal's hand pumping over his cock. The gaze slid to Hannibal's cock, and upward, at least reaching Hannibal's hazy, lustful eyes.

“I need you.” Hannibal whispered, his voice choked with need, “Will, I want you to take me. Take everything that I have.”

Will's gaze was unchanged for a few agonizing moments before he jarred into motion. Grabbing onto Hannibal's belt buckle, he tore open the buckle and yanked the zipper down with a scraping hiss. Hannibal bit back a gasp as Will stripped his trousers and boxers down in one motion, jolting his cock free of the restraints.

Will's hand curled around his cock, jerking it a few breath-taking times before ceasing into a domineering grip.

Hannibal let his hand slide away from Will's cock and to his thigh. He dug his fingers into the flesh, bridled his eagerness and desire with a strident reminder to himself that Will's resolution to their relationship was still fragile. He had to release control back to Will, just like before.

“We should take this to the bedroom.” Will whispered.

Hannibal nodded.

They left their rumpled pants in two heaps in the study, and took the hallway down to Hannibal's bedroom. The moment they were inside, Will grabbed onto Hannibal's hips and pushed him toward the bed. They climbed onto the mattress, mouths joining and hands colliding in their eagerness to divest the last of their clothing.

Will grunted in frustration as he grappled with all of the buttons on Hannibal's vest and shirt, and moaned in success when his hands at last spilled across Hannibal's bare chest. Their mouths clashed harder, Will's teeth snaring into Hannibal's lower lip as he forced Hannibal down against the mattress. Catching Hannibal's wrists, he pinned them against the bed above his head, trapping Hannibal beneath him. His mouth scorched down Hannibal's neck and shoulder, kissing and biting all the way to one, tender nipple. Hannibal pursed back a moan as Will's teeth scraped at his nipple, unlocking fresh desire that spilled hot and merciless to his core. His cock flexed rhythmically against his belly, offering up drops of pre-cum that dabbed sticky against his trembling stomach.

“Will, please.” He panted, wrists bucking against Will's hold.

Will drew back, his eyes sharp and bright with pleasure. He was enjoying hearing Hannibal plead.

“Please?”

“Please, hurry.” Hannibal said, his voice deteriorating into whimper as Will's gaze tracked down his chest and stomach to the hard length of his cock.

“Hurry up and fuck you?”

Hannibal swallowed hard, and gave a shaking nod.

“Say it.” Will said, his mouth curving.

“Please ...” Hannibal said, hoarsely, “Fuck me.”

Will released Hannibal's wrists, and slid off the bed to retrieve lube. Hannibal rolled onto his stomach, and pulled a pillow underneath his hips. He arched over the pillow as Will returned to the bed, lube clutched in his hand.

Hannibal craned his neck to see over his back as Will crawled between his spread legs. The sound of the bottle cap opening sent a Pavlovian response of aching need through his body, heightening the already surging arousal to unbearable burning desperation. His hips wiggled up eagerly from the pillow as Will wet his fingers in the lube and lowered his hand toward Hannibal's body.

The first caress sizzled across his nerve-endings like electricity, jolting his body forward against the pillow and wrenching a moan from his throat. He wrapped his fingers around handfuls of the sheets to stabilize himself as Will's fingers smeared lube up and down the cleft. He could feel himself dripping with lube as Will's fingers closed in on his hole. Two fingertips circled the pucker of flesh, turning his limbs weak and helpless, and his mouth full of staggered moans.

Hannibal dropped his head against the mattress, focusing on the pleasure Will's fingers were bringing him and keeping the most pathetic moans behind his sealed lips. Digging his knees in, he thrust his hips back against the caress in a desperate bid to expedite the preparation. His body thrummed and ached for Will inside, his thoughts jumping toward lovemaking and release, to the beautiful, sweet aftermath, to Will soaked in sweat and come. He wanted it all night, and all it once; he wanted it like flesh tearing under his teeth.

Hannibal gasped when Will's finger slid inside him, throwing him back into the present moment of resisting muscles and aching flesh. A fresh dose of lube spilled cold across his flesh before warming under the deft caress of Will's finger pumping all the way inside him.

Hannibal breathed out, and a shuddering moan came with it, lengthening into a strangled cry as Will pumped his finger in and out. His hips twisted away in automatic resistance, only to be dragged back again by his own desire and Will's hand strong around his hip. The grasp stayed there, pressing a command into flesh as the ministrations continued, working him open with firm, patient precision.

Hannibal rutted and moaned against the pace of Will's fingers pressing inside him, stretching him open. For every finger that found it's way inside him, another handful of long moments without Will inside him, without their bodies unified into one raw, throbbing being. He couldn't take it; he moaned hot need and impatience into the sheets, his breaths like enraged dragon fire into the material, his nails like caged lion claws across the mattress. Still, Will's hand pinned him, and his fingers worked inside. He added lube, and another finger, massaged and pumped, his hand charming Hannibal's body into complete and utter submission.

When at last he paused to smooth the lube over his cock, Hannibal was trembling, draped across the pillow, submissive and gaping. His breaths shuddered free of his lips, mind void of control, of dignity. He moaned, needy and desperate, as Will bent over him, one hand around his cock to guide it to Hannibal's body.

“Will ...” Hannibal panted.

He lifted his hips to meet the hot, blunt press of Will's cockhead, moaning adulation as it at last slipped inside him. His body clenched around the intrusion as Will pressed all the way inside, tunneling straight to his core. Will's hips slapped against his backside in a understated sound of union that was quickly overshadowed by Will's cry of pleasure.

Hannibal struggled to shift his knees tighter under himself, raising his hips to the the rhythm of Will's cock. Will's hands spread over Hannibal's hips and ass cheeks as he pulled out to the tip, revealing the tender, pink flesh stretched around the girth of his cock.

“Oh, fuck ...” Will whispered, his eyes rolling back.

He thrust in again, this time hitting deep and accurate against Hannibal's prostate. Hannibal lost his breath for several dizzying moments as pleasure ricocheted through his body. He grasped at the sheets, dragging a handful to his face to muffle whine of pleasure that galloped past his lips.

Will's nails dug into Hannibal's flesh as he grasped at a controlled pace, rocking his hips purposefully against Hannibal's ass. They were both too hot and bothered to go at it hard and wild; it would be over all too soon, and without speaking, they had already agreed to make this night last as long as possible. So, Will, trembling and grasping at the threads of his control, maintained a taut, steady pace that brought his hips kissing against Hannibal's flesh with each shallow thrust.

Hannibal clawed at the sheets, desperate and aching with a hunger that couldn't be sated by the slow, gentle fucking. He rocked back against Will's thrusts, rolling his hips temptingly and grinding down on Will's submerged cock.

“Oh, Will …” He moaned.

He threw a glance over his shoulder to see Will trembling above him, jaw clenched, his wild with need.

“Please ...” The supplication poured sweet and high from his mouth.

Will growled, his hips slamming against Hannibal's ass in response. He bent farther over Hannibal, sinking one hand into his hair and pinning Hannibal's cheek the sheets. His other hand gripped one ass cheek, spreading Hannibal open as he shifted into a faster rhythm. Hannibal moaned, motionless under Will's grip, but head spinning with satisfaction as Will delivered the desired response.

There was no sound between them except slapping flesh and dissonant moans as Will rutted into him. His cock struck deep with each thrust, launching Hannibal's body into a trembling, tingling dimension of verging pleasure. His groin clenched taut as Will pumped into him, striking again and again at his prostate, but holding him just at the edge of pleasure. His cock ached hard and dripping against his belly, trapped between himself and the pillow, unreachable even if he had wanted to touch himself – even if Will had allowed it.

Hannibal gasped in a breath when Will pulled to an abrupt stop. His body hummed and tingled as the pleasure eased back to the fringes of his mind.

Will pulled Hannibal onto his back, allowing their eyes to meet as he pressed his cock back inside. His fingers wound back around Hannibal's wrists, holding them captive against the bed sheets. Hannibal wrapped his legs around Will's waist, and locked his ankles, holding him close, as close as he could. Will's eyes pressed against Hannibal's, dark like uncharted waters, but edged with shifting blue and gray that Hannibal knew so well. In this primal gaze, he saw both halves of Will's mind, the darkness and the light complimenting each other in their eternal chase. Now, looking past the open windows of Will's mind, he wasn't sure which half he'd first fallen in love with, which side had attracted him so much; but he was quite sure it didn't matter, as Will wouldn't be the man he loved without one or the other.

“Will ...” Hannibal whispered, “I love you.”

They'd said it just once, and not in a pair. Since that moment, they had all but turned their backs on the proclamation, but Hannibal could not stop the words from spilling past his lips.

Will paused. It was the briefest of moments, the smallest shred of doubt crossing his eyes, but Hannibal saw each and every thought that flashed across his mind. What he saw might have bothered someone else, but Hannibal was well aware of Will's fears and confusion. He was satisfied with Will's moaned response.

“I love you, too.”

 

~

 

Once they cleaned up, Hannibal brought Will a glass of whiskey, and for himself, a glass of red wine. They lounged against the pillows, enjoying shared silence with their hands loosely entwined.

Hannibal's gaze paused on the closet door that stood ajar, allowing the black trunk to peek out at them.

“Are you still interested in what that box has to offer?” He asked, motioning to the closet.

Will followed Hannibal's gaze to the closet, and smiled. “Maybe after therapy.”

“I think our therapy is progressing quite well.”

“Couple's therapy.” Will said, a mischievous smile touching his lips.

“I always support therapy, but in this instance, I must say we should keep our issues between us.”

Will nodded, his smile fading.

“I know. I think we should keep that box and all it's contents out of our relationship until we have things … figured out.”

“We should come back to it for the right reasons.”

“Yes.”

“In a perfect world, we would have an intimate, honest conversation at this very moment that would work out all of our problems and allow us to go on to happily ever after.”

“That's how they do it in the movies.”

“It's so unrealistic, and yet so appealing.”

“Do you want to have an intimate, honest conversation at this very moment?”

Hannibal turned his gaze fully to Will, interested by the curiosity and fear in Will's voice.

“Not that it will make everything okay, like in the movies, but ...”

“If you would like.”

“You say that, but I don't expect it. Not entirely.”

“What would you like to ask?”

“I don't know … What's going to happen from here? Where is this going? How do we make it work?”

“Will, those are questions for the universe, not me. Not even I know what our future holds.”

Will sighed, “I suppose you're right.”

“Pray if you like. Write about it. Whatever healthy way allows you to release your fears and feel secure; but I refuse to tell you what you want to hear and give you false hope. I can't promise a future without pain or regret – no one can.”

“Pain and regret are a part of life.”

“An important part of life. If we didn't have our scars to remind us where we've been and what we've survived, we wouldn't be who we are.”

“I know I wouldn't be who I am without the scars you've given me.”

“And the ones I might give you in the future.”

“Now that's one thing you can promise.”

“I don't intend on hurting you.”

“But you will.”

Hannibal glanced away, ignoring the pang of pain his chest. The first pang of self-doubt he'd felt in years.

“It's who you are.” Will murmured, “Who _we_ are.”

“Can you live with that?”

“To be honest, I don't know.”

“Will.” Hannibal said. He set his glass on the nightstand, and turned in the bed to face Will. “There's something I've been giving a great deal of thought that I would like to tell you now.”

“What is it?”

“You asked me to reveal myself to Jack, and I said he deserved to know the truth.”

“Yes ...”

“I would like to make that idea take shape in reality.”

“You want to tell Jack that … what you are?”

“Isn't that what is holding you to this life? The careful facade of your daily routines in the FBI, and the perception of sanity and righteousness that you've worked hard to maintain?”

“The way Jack sees me isn't the way I really am.”

“Yes. You cling to that idea because the truth frightens you.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Facing your fears, and the truth. One night, one final dinner with you, me, and Jack. A grand reveal, and the finale of this life before another begins.”

Will wrenched his hand free of Hannibal's, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Hannibal watched him with a cool gaze, unconcerned by Will's pacing.

“You want to kill Jack.” Will said, looking up from the carpet, “That's your grand reveal?”

“Of course, he couldn't live knowing what I am. Or what you are.”

Will paused at the end of the bed. Scraping a hand through his hair, he blinked against the swell of thoughts behind his eyelids. Hannibal regarded the shift of emotions across his face, noting fear and doubt, but underneath, exhilaration.

“What would happen then?” Will whispered.

“We would leave. Begin a new life somewhere else.”

“Run away together?” Will asked, turning to face Hannibal with a hand tangled in his hair.

Hannibal smiled softly, perusing Will's trembling stance, the wild array of his curls, the exquisite jut of his hips like the marble statues crafted by ancient artists. His very own David, facing the giant.

“Yes.” Hannibal murmured, “If you would have me.”

Will drew in a shuddering breath, and resumed his pacing. Hannibal followed his movements, consuming with a quiver the fading marks of punishment striped across Will's backside.

He'd leveled the playing field that night. He'd taken as much as he'd given. He'd bared himself, and his deepest desires. He had released them from the constant struggle for power, but now, he quietly wished to manipulate Will into doing as he wished again. With a few precise blows to Will's mind and fears, he could bring Will to his knees, into submission before him. Everything, except one tiny part that longed for Will to truly feel love for him, urged Hannibal toward viscous manipulation.

That tiny part was the only thing holding him back.

At last, Will stopped pacing and returned to the bed. He sat down on the edge next to Hannibal, his eyes darting to and from Hannibal's eyes, his lip nervously bitten.

“I want to.” He whispered, “I want to run away with you.”

“But will you?”

Hannibal touched Will's chin, dragging his eyes upward. Will's eyelashes fluttered, and a blush poured into his cheeks. He drew in an breath, his nostrils flaring sharp.

“Yes.” He breathed out, “I can't say no. Not without regretting it for the rest of my life.”

Hannibal dragged Will to him, joining their mouths in a hot kiss of relief and gratitude. Will leaned into Hannibal's chest, allowing Hannibal to pull him down against the sheets with their mouths locked.

In Hannibal's chest bloomed the warmth of love and joy, melting ice and blackness in it's wake. He couldn't recall feeling this way since youth, where the memories of Mischa, of innocence were faded like old photographs. Had he recalled those feelings more intimately, he may not have trusted the sweet lull of satisfaction that simmered through his veins.

Life is neither fair, nor merciful. In the moment you forget that truth, your worst fears are realized, the cruelty of this world cuts through your ankles and drives you to the cold hard earth. For all he'd seen and done, for all he'd participated in that cruelty, Hannibal forgot; for the slightest moment, he was vulnerable. And in that moment, Will, neither knowing or accepting the power, truly took the reins of Hannibal's heart and soul.

 

~

 

To a spectator, Will and Jack's plan was coming off perfectly. Hannibal had fallen straight into Will's trap. Against everything he knew, he had taken the bait. Hungry or not, he'd let the fish hook drive through his lip. He would be caught, reeled in, gutted, hung to dry.

Will explained the the plan to Jack in a cold, flat tone. The dreadful announcement came not as a shock, but as that heavy, sickening feeling in the gut when something you cannot pinpoint is about to go terribly wrong.

When he left Jack's office, that rock twisted harder in his stomach. He realized without realizing it fully that he didn't want to be Jack's man. The unconscious thought of following Hannibal's plan rather than Jack's grew in his mind like a weed among the flowers. Good intentions soured by one bad apple.

Something was coming. Not something he wanted to be a part of, but something he was intricately bound to, sewn into, that he couldn't escape. Fate. All their destinies flying and swimming in blood and emptiness.

Trying desperately to scrape that dirt of fear and doubt from his brain, he struggled through a week of sleepless nights and avoiding Jack. He went to therapy. He pretended all would be okay, once Hannibal was gone. It was just an act; he knew Hannibal, in the flesh or whispering through his brain, would haunt him forever.

He couldn't shake the thought that he was about to ruin a good thing. He wasn't sure whether that good thing was the perfect, moving cogs of he and Jack's investigation, or the brilliant satisfaction of going to bed with the enemy.

He observed his conversations with Jack, with Alana, and with Freddie Lounds as an outside observer; and to that observer they appeared like a goodbye. A defeat. A sad farewell.

Life as he knew it was about to change. The apocalypse was coming.

 

~

 

The fire consumed paper like a hungry beast, devouring the record of Hannibal's time as a psychiatrist in Baltimore. The physical act of destroying the journals and moving Hannibal's life brick by brick struck harder than all planning and manipulation that had come before. Now it was real. Now there was no going back.

The culmination of months of undercover work hinged on these final hours – these dark final hours that stretched before Will as the gaping maw of eternity. His chest ached as if he'd held his breath too long, but he couldn't inhale without drowning himself. A rock was tied to his ankle, dragging him down to the black sea of oblivion and death.

Just a day before they were meant to sit down with Jack at that table, Hannibal asked Will to have dinner with him. He served lamb, and sharp, red wine. Their conversation idled over bland topics of daily life before spilling into the meat of their thoughts; Jack's death, and all that was to come.

As if sensing Will's indecision, Hannibal offered him a way out.

_We could leave now. Tonight. Feed your dogs, leave a note for Alana. Almost polite._

He could have said yes. Every fearful and longing part of him wanted to say yes. Yet, he knew if he said yes, it would be all over. Months of work for nothing. Years of fighting the darkness in him sacrificed for a few moments of satisfaction.

He'd gone to bed with the enemy, but he couldn't stay. He had to end this ill-fated affair. No one else would save him; he had to save himself.

Will helped Hannibal carry the dishes into the kitchen in silence. Hannibal loaded the dishwasher as Will lingered by the island counter, nursing the last of his wine.

“What were you before this?” Will asked.

Hannibal closed the dishwasher and turned it on. The machine rumbled through the silence between them like the churn of Will's heartbeat.

“What do you mean?” Hannibal asked.

“You said you were taking apart this life, and moving it brick by brick. It feels like you've done it before.”

“I've lived in many places during my life.” Hannibal said, “Lithuania, France, Italy to name a few. These places aren't meant to be permanent no matter how much I wish them to be. Baltimore is the same.”

“But it's never caught up to you like this. You'll have to change your name, your whole identity.”

“My identity isn't bound up solely in my name or my profession.” Hannibal said, “As a child, I was an artist, as a young man a doctor, and now as a man, a psychiatrist. I have no qualms in studying new things and recreating myself. The true nature of person's soul lies inside, in the mind, in the values and virtues and beliefs that we hold dear.”

“When you're no longer a psychiatrist, or even Hannibal Lecter, you'll still be you.”

“Yes. No one can take that away from me ...” Hannibal's mouth curved softly as he approached Will, “Not even you, Will.”

“I don't want to take anything from you.” Will whispered.

Hannibal braced his hands on the edge of the counter, trapping Will between them. His eyes burned into Will like two black, endless vortexes, capable of sucking Will in and holding him captive despite all of Will's valiant efforts. Surrender lay at the fringes of those eyes, down at the end of long, black tunnel where Hannibal's cold, mottled heart crouched in darkness.

“I've never been forced to give up my identity.” Hannibal said, “You were never there before.”

“I've never been forced to give up my identity either.” Will said, his voice thin and raspy. “ _You_ were never there.”

“Can you live that?”

“Can you?”

Hannibal's gaze raked down Will's face to the pumping vein of his carotid artery. His eyes latched on as he grasped Will's jaw, guiding it up to expose the length of his throat. Will drew in a shuddering breath as Hannibal ducked his head to press the silken heat of his mouth into Will's flesh.

Will leaned into the counter for support, and grasped the front of Hannibal's jacket until the button popped open under the pressure. Heat and saliva blazed down his throat, igniting desire low in his belly; desire that expanded to push out the invading dread and fear. His mind melted to blank, white-hot need as Hannibal's mouth branded it's way down his neck, to the curve where his shoulder began.

Hannibal paused here, drawing in a deep breath of Will's scent. Will moaned as Hannibal's body pressed against his own, driving burgeoning hardness against Will's. His mouth surged back up, capturing Will's earlobe and dragging the sharp edges of his teeth across Will's jaw. He licked at the stinging bite mark before drawing back to gaze into Will's eyes.

“We had our last supper of this life, and now, I would feast on you before life as we know it is ended.”

“What will be the last impression between your sheets?” Will whispered, “Do these violent delights have a violent end as well?”

“That suggests you plead violence at my hand … to your body.”

“Maybe.” Will rasped.

He grasped Hannibal's hips, dragging them against his own to press the rigid curve of his cock into Hannibal's. Hannibal gazed down at him, cool and calm as the seconds before a storm. The scent of lighting poised between them, rage and need boiling down in those seconds of questioning and thinly veiled secrets.

“What have you done to deserve it?” Hannibal whispered.

“Everything.” Will moaned, grinding against him, “Doesn't is please you that the tables have turned?”

“I'm not so blinded by pleasure that it clouds my judgment.”

“Then cloud it willfully.” Will whispered, “I'm offering myself to you freely.”

Hannibal's mouth curved softly. He stroked a fingertip along Will's cheek, pausing at the corner of his mouth. “Just as you always have.”

Will uttered a grinding, mirthless chuckle. “I was a fool to ever think otherwise.”

Hannibal dragged him away from the counter, one hand resting heavy on Will's lower back as he led them out of the kitchen and through the dark hallways to the open door of his bedroom. Beyond, the room hummed promises and memories, all of their base acts and needs woven in the bed sheets.

Will stumbled to the bed, working open the fastenings of his clothes with hasty fingers. He ripped the shirt from his body, and fell back against the sheets. Hannibal lunged on top of him before he could continue, and loosened the belt from Will's waist with a yank. The leather cracked free of the loops, slithering through the air like a poised snake. Will drew in a halting breath as he gazed up at Hannibal's dark, predatory eyes.

Will thumbed open the button of his jeans, and let the zipper down with a hiss. Hannibal's eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring at the sight of Will's cock pressing hard against his boxers. Will wiggled underneath him, working his jeans and boxers down around his thighs just before Hannibal seized him by the waist and turned him onto his belly.

Will's fingers snagged in the sheets, anchoring his body still as Hannibal knelt straddled over his legs, belt gripped in his fist. He glanced over his shoulder to see Hannibal shrugging out of his jacket, and rolling his sleeves up. As his bare forearms came into view, Will recalled with bittersweet pleasure watching Randall Tiers blood slide down those hands and arms that now threatened to punish him.

Hannibal threw his jacket off to the side, and adjusted his grasp on the ends of the folded belt. His eyes burned hot and dark, destructive in his their intent.

Will arched against the sheets, mind tilting, facing burning with reckless need. His brain was filled with the memory of bending over his kitchen counter and taking the blows. The sharp recollection of humiliation and satisfaction at that shame drove him now as the hatred at what he'd done – what he was going to do – filled him.

Hannibal's fingers gripped at Will's nape, pinning his face down into the sheets as he raised the belt. Will's heart drummed deafening through his body, blood surging like a tsunami up through his belly and chest. Heat clenched at his core, desire and last minute second-guessing ripping him in two. His breath caught in the back of his throat, a plea poised to stop the punishment before his began; but too late.

The belt cut through the air, whistling and greeting his bare flesh with a shocking crack. The sound registered in his ears just before the pain washed across his skin. Horror, followed by twisted pleasure rippled down his spine, cold followed by heat that laid to waste the apprehension. He was seized by the shame of it, the wonderful, intoxicating pain that overloaded his senses.

He writhed silent, his mouth stretched open in a cry that never came.

He could hardly breathe as Hannibal struck out again, lashing white-hot pain across his backside. Tears swelled hot behind his eyelids, never falling as his eyes squeezed shut hard against the surge of stinging pain that sank all the way to his bones.

The strikes came one after the other, no pause, no relief between them. Under the loud cracking of leather and flesh, over the sound of his surging heart, he could hear Hannibal's exhilarated breaths, each one shallow and punctuating the air with powerful pleasure.

He struck until Will's flesh was numb and raw, and the pain sank dull and aching through flesh and bone. He struck without stopping until Will was bucking and moaning underneath him, pleading for mercy. Until his flesh was red and bruised, a violent end – the only end that could happen.

Dropping the belt, Hannibal pulled Will onto his back, and yanked the pants and boxers free of his body. Will lapsed against the sheets, limp and teary-eyed. He moaned as Hannibal pushed his legs open wide, and slid a hand down his inner thigh to where his cock lay uncontrollably hard against his belly.

“You can't deny the pain and humiliation.” Hannibal whispered, “You can't deny that you enjoy it.”

“Just as you did.” Will whispered.

“It's two sides of the same coin, enjoying inflicting pain, and enjoying the infliction.”

“Fucking you, and wanting to be fucked by you.”

“Tonight you don't have a choice.”

Hannibal crawled across the bed to retrieve the lube. He was still almost entirely dressed, but the sweat gleaming at the crisp collar, and his cock pressing hard at his trousers betrayed that he was in the same position as naked Will.

Will lay motionless against the sheets as Hannibal knelt over him, shedding his waist coat, and loosening the tie from his throat. The fine layers of his respectable facade fell from his body to reveal the naked, wanting flesh of a predator about to consume it's prey. Will trembled at his feet, hardly the adversary or equal of previous trysts; he was no more than the helpless quarry of a stronger beast.

Hannibal cracked open the lube, and motioned with a flick of his finger for Will to lift his legs. Will brought his legs up against his sides, leaving himself vulnerable to Hannibal's touch. Lube spilled between his thighs, sluicing down the underside of his balls, over his hole, and down the cleft to dampen the bed sheets. Hannibal delved his fingers into the slick mess, massaging at Will's hole without prelude or tenderness. He slipped one finger right in, pressing past the shocked clench of Will's muscles and going in to the hilt.

Will gasped as his body clenched hard around the invasion. He clutched onto his knees to hold himself open to Hannibal's ministrations, but could hardly stop the arch of his back against the penetration. Hannibal shifted closer, pressing a hand to Will's chest as he pumped his finger inside harder.

Will slammed his eyes shut, and locked his jaw over a pathetic moan. His hole flexed around Hannibal's fingers despite his attempts to relax himself. A hint of pain came with the penetration, though no more than he could take, or even appreciate. The hum of pain left over from the spanking was the at the baseline of his pleasure, and Hannibal's rough ministrations only fed the drum of need throbbing through his body.

A cry breached his lips as Hannibal pressed a second finger inside. Through the strangled sound of pain, the pleasure emerged in Will's high-pitched tone. He grasped at the sheets, bearing himself down against the pressure of Hannibal's fingers, eager for Hannibal to tear him open, obliterate his defenses.

Hannibal responded without hesitance, plunging his fingers in deeper and faster. Will's resistance crumbled to the harsh caress, trembling and opening, aching and eager. A moan pressed past his lips, holding a plea for more.

Opening his eyes, met Hannibal's dark, aroused gaze with as much confidence he could muster. He could hardly look as Hannibal's gaze scorched into him, hot as fire and filled with need that couldn't be sated in all the long minutes and hours of their intimacy. It was a look of primal desire, fueled not only biological drives, but by the strange, violent acts he longed for in the darkest regions of his skull. The thirst for the kill, the hunger for ultimate dominance, the need to crush every living thing that dared test him.

Will trembled, shaking and aroused, hungry for that power to take him and fill him, grind him down to nothing but dust between Hannibal's fingers. Complete ownership. Oneness. Inseparability.

Hannibal's fingers slid out from between Will's thighs, leaving him shaking and arching from the bed. The emptiness ached inside him, desperate even in the brief seconds between the touch of Hannibal's fingers, and his the first thrust of his cock.

Hannibal smoothed lube over his cock with a few sloppy pumps of his fist before crowding between Will's raised, trembling legs. His cock head slid against Will's open, eager hole, circling the blushing pucker for torturous moments before breaching him.

Will cried out, his body arching and stiffening against the sheets as Hannibal slowly thrust into him. The pace was excruciating, and almost more than Will could take. Hannibal's cock took him inch by inch, letting Will feel every bit of his long, thick cock as he slid inside.

“Ohh ...” Will moaned, “Please ...”

Hannibal grabbed onto Will's wrist as Will's hands reached for him. Pinning Will's arms down, Hannibal rose over him, thrusting his hips down hard for the final inch between them. His hips met with Will's backside with a slap and mutually uttered grunts. He rested there, buried to the hilt, for long, agonizing moments that had Will squirming on his cock and bucking against his grip.

“Oh, please ...” Will moaned, turning an imploring gaze to Hannibal's calculating eyes.

Hannibal lifted his chin, a taut smile forming on his mouth as Will whimpered, impaled and trembling on his huge, throbbing cock.

“Fuck, please.” Will groaned, dropping his head back against the bed.

Hannibal shifted against him, rubbing his cock just right inside Will. Will moaned loudly, and squirmed harder, rubbing himself against Hannibal's cock like a desperate animal in heat.

Hannibal pulled out to the tip, leaving Will gasping and pleading for brief seconds, before thrusting back inside. Their flesh clapped together over the sound of Will's whine of pain and pleasure. They both trembled, eyes meeting with vicarious dares and demands.

“Fuck me.” Will murmured, dragging his tongue across his lips.

Hannibal growled low in his throat, and pushed against him, driving his cock to the deepest point. Will gasped, eyes going wide, and freezing in that moment of shock as Hannibal's hips took off like a piston against Will's ass. Deep thrusts buried his cock to the hilt each time, creating a dissonant duet of slapping flesh and strangled, pleasured moans.

Will's legs wound around Hannibal's waist, pulling him in closer in eagerness for contact that couldn't quite be satisfied despite the most intimate union of their bodies. His arms strained against Hannibal's grip, longing to touch, longing to hold on to this moment before disappeared into memory. Hannibal's fingers only tightened around his wrists, pressing bruises into the tender flesh. His mouth was set in a determined line, his eyes consuming Will's submissive position below him and the eager buck of his body.

Will opened his eyes to the scalding gaze, letting it burn into him and through him, letting it melt away his doubts. He'd never felt so needed as he did in this moment. He'd never felt such a satisfied gaze on his body. He'd never experienced such insatiable desire in one person. He couldn't look away; couldn't say no to the promise of a never ending supply of pleasure and gratification.

He couldn't say no, at least not in this moment. This moment lay beyond the boundaries of the investigation, beyond morality, beyond right and wrong. It could have been perfect, but no matter how Will tried to insulate himself from the truth, he knew it was finite.

Weeks ago, he'd told Hannibal it was over. He'd said his goodbyes. But it hadn't been over. He'd gone back, he'd taken of the dangerous pleasure, and given himself to the Devil.

But tonight was the end. Tonight had the quality of memory, and the bitter taste of a goodbye. Tonight, the impetus of their power struggle came full circle. Here he was again, lying weak under the incomparable power that was Hannibal Lecter, a light that would outshine, and overwhelm him no matter how hard he tried. It was useless to fight anymore.

Every end is a beginning. Every beginning finds and end. All that happens must happen, and if it is painful and heartbreaking, by that you know it is real. In this moment, Will's heart was shattering; and by that, not the pleasure, not the pain of lingering punishment, not by the anger at reality raging in his chest, by the dread of this moment ending, he knew it was real. Whatever he'd lost along the way, and whatever wrong turn he'd made to go down this dark path, he couldn't regret it, because for the first time in his life, he knew it was real.

 


	4. Epilogue

Sunset came and went without his notice. So many beautiful things in the world were lost on him now that darkness shrouded his every waking moment.

He nursed a glass of whiskey by the fire as he gazed at the bags sitting packed on the floor. He was wearing his coat, and boots, with every intention of walking out that door. Yet, he gave one last moment to indecision, to the longing to move on. In reality, he could never move on from what had happened, but it was nice to think that all the broken parts of himself might possibly come back together without the acknowledgment of Hannibal Lecter.

Will winced as he rose from the chair. Taking the whiskey to the bathroom, he downed a few Asprin to dull the pain. He'd nearly died on Hannibal's kitchen floor; the doctor told him it would be weeks before he wasn't feeling the sting of the knife any longer.

He could take the pain. It was the memories attached to the jagged smile on his belly that tormented him into the dark of night. All that he'd given up, all that he'd lost. Abigail … Hannibal.

Will jarred at the sound of a knock on the front door. Past nightfall, he didn't expect anyone to show up on his doorstep. Let alone someone he wanted to talk to.

Will left his whiskey on the bathroom counter, and walked back into the living room. He peeked through the curtains to see Alana standing on the porch, one hand shoved deep into the pocket of her winter coat, the other gripping her cane. The wind plucked at her hair, and she turned her chin and nose down against the cold.

Will uttered sigh. Throwing open the deadbolt and the lock, he opened the door to her without remark.

“Can we talk?” She asked, stepping across the threshold.

Will spread his hands in invitation.

“I just wanted to come see how-”

Alana's remark faded as she entered the living room to see the suitcases sitting packed on the floor.

She turned slowly to look at him, a frown tugging at her brows. “Where are you going?”

“Are you going to try to stop me?”

“That implies you need to be stopped.”

“I'm going to Lithuania.”

Alana nodded. “I see.”

“You want to ask me why?”

“I think I know why.”

Will offered her a forced smile. “Will you look after the dogs?”

“Of course. But they love you, you know. They'll miss you if you're gone long.”

“Are you still talking about the dogs?”

Eyes growing frosty, she lifted her chin and crossed her arms.

“Fine.” She said, “I'll be honest. I think this is a bad idea, Will. But am I going to stop you? No. I understand if it's what you have to do.”

“Do you?” He asked, “We haven't talk about that night in much detail.”

“Is there something I should know?”

Will sighed, and scraped a hand through his hair. “You don't know everything … about me and Hannibal.”

Alana's icy determination melted into something more like concern.

“What do you mean?”

“You were right. Jack and I were setting a trap, and goading Hannibal into it. But like you also said, Hannibal was setting his traps. He had me, Alana.”

“Had … had you?”

“I was going to leave with him.” Will whispered, letting his hand fall to his mouth. His next words were muffled in his palm and strangled by emotion. “We were going to run away together.”

“I don't understand.” Alana said, “Will, that doesn't sound like you.”

“But it was. It was my decisions … my bad choices.”

“But you didn't. You almost died, just like me and Jack.” Alana said, his voice trembling through the reasoning, “You were a victim.”

“The plan went wrong.” Will said, “Pernell stepped in and pulled Jack's badge. We didn't have the snipers like we planned. We were supposed to go together. But it all went wrong.”

“I know, I ...” Alana's breath hitched mid-sentence, “Will ...”

“I told him run.” Will whispered, harshly, “I wanted him to leave, but he couldn't leave without me. And he couldn't take me with him. Not after … after I betrayed him.”

“What if the plan hadn't gone wrong?” Alana asked in whisper.

Will turned slowly to face her, his eyes downcast and hollow. “I had changed my mind. I'd decided I was going to go with him.”

“But Jack-”

“Jack would have died if the plan hadn't gone wrong.” Will said.

Alana took a step back, her hand hovering over her mouth.

“I'm sorry.” Will said, “I'm not who you think I am. That's why you have to let me go, do this.”

Alana gazed at him, wide eyed and tearful. Swallowing thickly, she gave a short nod.

“I thought I knew him.” Will said, giving a gruff chuckle, “Fuck, I thought I was in love with him. But It turns out, I didn't know him at all. I have to go, see if I can. Now that it's all over, maybe I'll be seeing him with clear eyes.”

Alana stood frozen in place as Will grabbed his suitcases from the floor, and marched past her toward the door. He paused with his hand on the nob, a pang of regret through his chest.

“I never meant for you to get hurt.” He whispered, “That wasn't part of our plan … Jack's or Hannibal's.”

“I know.” She whispered, “I came of my own volition. I had to see for myself – just like you do now.”

“You understand?”

“Whatever he is, whatever he has that blinds you, I experienced it too. I know what its like to feel his pull and his charm.”

“There's a difference. You didn't know he was a killer; I did.”

“No.” She said, shaking her head, “There isn't a difference. Not for you.”

Will nodded.

He didn't say goodbye as he pushed the door open, and stepped out into the cool evening. He marched down the porch steps to his car, and threw the bags in the back seat. Climbing behind the wheel, he started the engine and steered down the driveway, his hands white-knuckled around the wheel.

He cast one last glance in the rear view mirror at his little house sitting like a boat on a dark sea. Alana's silhouette grew smaller and smaller, then disappeared altogether as she shut the door on their gazes.

As he turned out onto the road, he didn't look back again. No matter how hard he tried to cling onto the safe haven of his house, and his dogs, and his familiar possessions, his life was no longer there. It was a part of the past that he had given up when he chose to go with Hannibal.

Ahead of him was the world, and somewhere in that world, Hannibal Lecter walked up and down hunting his next victim and smiling with bloody teeth.

The shine of a single moment, of drugged pleasure and hazy pain, was gone. All that was left was loss and empty questioning that rattled on into the night. All that was left was for Will to go, to look, to see until he could understand. Out there, somewhere, lurking and hunting and waiting, he would find Hannibal; and in finding Hannibal, he may find his own face looking back at him. Only then could he dream of going home.

 

 ~the end~

 

**Author's Note:**

> And that concludes this series! Thank you to everyone who read and commented :)
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://relentless-fire.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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